Men Without Shirts
by Laatija
Summary: Oliver tends to run around shirtless and Felicity is easily distracted - which, in this case, is a good thing. Missing scene for episode 115: Dodger.


Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow

A/N: It's a little late in coming but here's a missing scene from Dodger. Yes, I know there's already a nice tag floating around out there but the phrase 'Men Without Shirts' was stuck in my head and needed to come out in a story thus the missing scene happened. I also wanted to explore how Felicity handled the thing with the bomb. It's rambly but there's some fun psychology in there if you squint. I'm also trying to nail down how Oliver interacts with Felicity so if you happen to catch something that you don't feel is cannon, please point it out to me.

Anyways, please enjoy this missing scene from episode 115: Dodger.

Cheers,

Laatija

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**Men Without Shirts**

* * *

Oliver was without a shirt again.

They'd been back at the factory for no less than thirty minutes and already the shirt was gone. She was fairly certain it was his favorite pastime – showing his fantastically ripped torso off to the world. Only he couldn't exactly do that full time so he just showed it off to the hideout. And it was definitely fantastic. As in _fantasy_. This was the torso of a rogue knight who spent his life fighting dragons to earn a place in the heart of the fiery damsel.

Oh, shirtless Oliver.

Hello, shirtless Oliver.

I saved you.

"Felicity?"

Felicity caught herself staring at him.

Well, no. That wasn't accurate. She didn't catch herself staring. John Diggle caught her.

"Nothing," she snapped.

"What?"

She blinked rapidly, pushing her glasses back up on her nose. They didn't match her dress. Which was silly to think about and she was berating herself for it. Of all the things that had happened tonight, worrying about how much her glasses clashed with her cocktail dress was a little off topic.

Diggle sat down across from her. He had his gentle face on. "Felicity, why don't I take you home? You should get some sleep. Try to relax."

That made four. Four times they had attempted to make her go home.

"No, I can't go home," she said quickly. "Like I already told you _three times_, I'm…too jumpy. If I go home, I'll just take off again. I can't…I just…" She balled her hands into fists and hugged them to her chest. "Too much adrenaline." She gave him a smile to lessen the severity of the conversation.

Dig nodded slowly. "Sure but you just had a really traumatic experience—"

"Traumatic? I was almost the headless horseman. Thank you, again, by the way, for, you know, helping make sure I…wasn't." Felicity turned her head back to the monitors. She imagined she'd be a basket case tomorrow, when everything finally sunk in. But her head was still spinning like a hyperactive squirrel. That's what happened after things like that. After the initial meet and greet with the Hood, she cleaned her whole apartment and reorganized her VHS collection by order of awesome. Scary movies kept her awake at night.

"Felicity—"

"Let me just stop you right there, Mr. Diggle." Felicity turned her chair around and it spun a little too rapidly and she had to turn it all the way back around until she faced him again. "Yes, I will probably break down in a few hours and cry like a very tiny child. Yes, I'll probably avoid wearing my awesome 90's Buffy choker for a few years. Yes, I'll question my agreement to work with you. But don't worry." She held up her index finger. "I'm not going to turn you into the police and I'll likely keep working with you and Mr. Queen but there will be a lot of angst and sugar before I come to that decision and you should probably buy me some Ben and Jerry's because you owe me that much at least and that stuff is expensive. Ok? Stop asking me if I'm fine. I'm not. But you have to let me process this." She pursued her lips and decisively turned back to the computers.

Diggle released a sort of sigh. "Fine. But you let me know if you need anything. Besides ice cream."

"I will do that," she said without turning to look at him. Part of that was because she was very interested in following the new police reports that were coming in about the Dodger case. The other part of her staring so intently at the screens was because she was too vulnerable to shirtless men at the moment and Oliver was still across the room. She'd just get sucked back in to staring and then…awkward turtles. She hadn't been around this much raw testosterone in _years_. Even when she was dating, it was fellow nerds who were just barely manlier then she was. Also, scars were sexy…

Something heavy clunked down on her desk and Felicity jumped.

"Whoah!"

"Hey, easy, it's just me," came Olivers voice.

Felicity collapsed bonelessly into her chair. "Oh god…" she muttered. "I swear, if you offer to drive me home, I'm going to run around the Glades barefoot."

Mr. Queen gave her a kind smile. "Right. Come on, you need to burn off some of that adrenaline."

Felicity frowned, looking at the object on her desk. It was a piece of bamboo that was something like two feet long. "You want me to…I can't… I can't even think of anything clever to say about that. What exactly am I doing?"

"Hitting things," he explained. He smiled at her.

"Do you look at me at all? I mean, in the context of a woman?" she asked incredulously.

Oliver's smile dropped. He blinked a few times, brow furrowing in confusion. "I don't…what?"

"Have you _seen_ the dress I'm wearing?" she pressed, ignoring his sudden discomfort.

Relief briefly crossed his face and the smile came back. "Go change. There's some clothes in your locker. I had to guess your size but it's just sweats anyway."

Felicity blinked. "Um…A. I have a locker? And B. you bought me clothes…" She shook her head. "I'm not…I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Oliver nodded. "What we do…it's usually best to be prepared for anything. I thought you should have a locker and some emergency clothes. Just in case. Go change."

She gave him a weird look which didn't seem to phase him at all and then nodded curtly. "Oook. I'll just…Where is it?"

He pointed towards the far corner of the basement and she trotted off. Part of her was weirded out by the idea of Mr. Queen buying her clothes but another part was tickled by the idea that she had a locker in a secret vigilante hideout. She was officially a part of a crime fighting team. Temporarily, sure, but still…Ok yes, it was cool. She could decorate her locker and put comfy clothes in there and unhealthy snacks because Oliver didn't believe in eating delicious things when he was in the factory. Something about five years with no sugar and he couldn't start pigging out now or else he'd lose his figure. She was mentally paraphrasing of course. He didn't actually say much on the subject. Regardless, she could stash chocolate there. And Midol. And a secret journal. And she should get a lock for it…

Felicity found her locker and the gray sweat pants and tee shirt. One size too big but nothing she couldn't manage. She changed in the bathroom and ditched her heels. In her locker. Because she could do that now. And then she grabbed the stick and headed over to where Oliver waited on the workout mat. He was swinging a stick of his own.

"Ever had any sort of martial arts training?" he asked.

She gave him a 'well duh' look. "Yes, Oliver. I was trained as a ninja when I was eight. I only work as an IT girl to maintain my cover…" she said in a voice that oozed sarcasm.

He smirked. "How about plastic lightsabers?" he asked mockingly.

She chewed her lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. Because, yes, when she was a kid she _did_ play with plastic lightsabers. But like hell was she going to admit that to Oliver. "Oh come on, really?" came the exasperated voice. The grin still played at her lips though.

"Ok just think classic sword fighting," he said. He raised his own stick like a fencing foil.

She twirled her stick experimentally. "What's the point of this again?"

"You have a lot of excess adrenaline running through your system. Your body needs to either run or fight to feel better. Trust me, this will help you sleep tonight," he explained lightly.

"Oh I won't be sleeping tonight. I probably won't sleep for a solid twenty four hours," Felicity shot back. She could tell he was purposefully avoiding any direct comments about the bomb collar and the Dodger and nearly dying. She appreciated that. Although _now_ she was thinking about the bomb collar and the Dodger and nearly dying and her chest got a little tight and her hands shook just a little…

"Just…come at me," he urged, snapping her out of her train of thought.

She scrunched her face up and stood in what she thought was a good sword fighting stance. Like the Man in Black. _I am not left handed_… She darted forward and swung her stick. Oliver parried the blow and the two sticks came together with a resounding _CLACK_.

The sound was so abrupt and unexpected that it coaxed a brief grin onto her face.

She slashed like a fencer. Nothing at all fancy and nothing quick but she put more and more force behind each blow. Oliver matched each one with ease, stepping back a little with each slash, coaxing her forward.

Felicity fell into a rhythm, lulled by the sound of bamboo against bamboo. Oliver occasionally murmured something like 'good' but it wasn't much more than background noise. She didn't even realize that they were moving in a giant circle around the mats.

And then suddenly Oliver was attacking. His stick was swinging near her face and she only just leapt back in time to avoid disaster.

"Whoah!" she yelped.

Oliver attacked again and again she managed to just barely keep from having a stick in her face.

Her heart started pounding. Something very instinctual started to take over. It was something like fear but not quite as conscious as what she'd felt earlier tonight. It was more like...do good or get hurt. It was immediate. It was unnaturally quick coordination. It was moving before comprehending.

"Oliver—"

"Focus," he told her.

Now they were going back and forth, turning in tight little circles. She would throw out some blows and he would block them before he darted in as quick as a snake and she'd hammer his stick away, looking for all the world like she was taking on a fencer with a baseball bat. He never had a chance to hit her. Later, she'd realize that this was because he wasn't actually trying to hit her and if she missed a parry, his stick wouldn't have actually touched her anyway. But in the moment, she was filled with a gust of confidence. Without even thinking, Felicity moved faster and struck harder. Her mind was clear enough that she didn't even realize that it was.

Twak.

Block.

Jab.

Twist.

Crack.

Parry.

Slash.

Dodge.

Thrust—

"Agh!" Oliver was suddenly hopping back, his stick gone, his hand shaking against a stinging pain.

Felicity pulled up sharply. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" Immediately, her stick hit the ground and her hands flew up to cover her mouth. "Are you ok? I'm sorry! Oh my god. I didn't mean to, I swear." _Oh-my-god-I-just-hit-the-Hood!_

"It's ok, Felicity. I'm fine. It's fine. Relax," Oliver insisted. All the lines of pain smoothed away and he held out his hand to prove it. "See? I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"I'm sure. I promise." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Looks like you got the better of me. You have a knack for this." She wouldn't realize how much of a lie that was for a full week. But she didn't mind so much. It was a kind lie.

"Ok…I think…I think I'm done…sparring now," she said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah I don't like hitting shirtless men."

His eyebrows shot up. "Uh—"

"It's distracting," she added quickly. "You. Without a shirt. It's just…" She cleared her throat and didn't pick up the sentence again. She wasn't sure where she'd been going with that anyway. Instead, Felicity turned and stomped back to the computer. She collapsed into the chair and snatched the bottle of water that was on the desk. It was the bottle Mr. Diggle had given her as soon as they'd gotten back to the factory. Because that's what you gave people who've had traumatic experiences. Water. She downed the bottle. And then she opened the bottle of water that Oliver had given her for the same reason. Because they both seemed to think she was going to melt into a puddle of goo and, damn it, she wasn't _that_ delicate.

As soon as she'd finished the second bottle, Felicity realized how tired she felt. There was a cooling sheen of sweat on her forehead and her muscles were quickly relaxing as the tension oozed out of her. She felt…spent. And she wasn't sure if that was good or bad. But she was also…less afraid then before. Which was silly because she shouldn't have been afraid anyway. The Dodger wasn't a problem anymore. He couldn't clamp a bomb to her neck even if he wanted to. It was as if her emotions didn't want to hear the logic of the matter. But now they – the emotions – were sort of just…floating. Her body was done feeling scared and without the backup, her emotions didn't seem quite as intimidating as before.

Funny how that worked.

"You ready to go home now?" Mr. Diggle asked. He was perched on the edge of her desk.

She unconsciously rubbed her neck. "Um…yeah. I think so." She sounded a little winded because she was. IT girls don't usually work out that hard. "How long were we…?"

"I dunno. Maybe twenty minutes," Diggle answered.

"Oh. Wow. Yeah, I'm ready to go home. But I can drive myself. I probably smell really…bad…" She trailed off under Diggles withering glare. "Never mind."

"Come on, Felicity. I'll make sure you get your car back in the morning."

"Thanks Dig," she said with a smile. She gathered her purse and started for the door with Diggle on her heels.

"Good night, Felicity," Oliver said.

She glanced over at him. He'd put a shirt on. Shame…

"Good night, Mr. Queen."

She opened the door and felt the crisp breeze against her skin. It was luscious… "Oh wait!" she yelped. She turned and darted back inside. Oliver was just about to settle down in front of the computer and she wedged herself between him and the machine. "Forgot to log off of facebook…Heh. Oops." She clicked a few buttons and then twirled away with an embarrassed smile. "Ok. Good night, Mr. Queen. For real this time."

He snorted a laugh. "Good night, Felicity."


End file.
